


When On Earth, Do as the Humans Do

by MonstersMenagerie



Category: Ben 10 Series
Genre: Aliens, Falling In Love, For Science!, In-universe situations and conflict, M/M, Methanosian, Necrofriggian, Non-Canon Relationship, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Fluff, SwampChill, aliens out of the omnitrix, goofy alien bfs doing their thing, how does love work anyway?, terrible puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-07-08 20:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15937361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonstersMenagerie/pseuds/MonstersMenagerie
Summary: (Self-Indulgent fluff ship) Even with Bellwood's thriving human/alien population, the Ark Project aims to create living specimens of species in order to create a bond with far off planets and Earth's native population. Among these specimens are Swampfire and Big Chill, total opposites at first glance finding themselves bonding over their shared situation.But being born on Earth and so far away from their respective planets and cultures, how do they go about romancing each other? Learning from humans, of course!





	1. Boredom and Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, guess I'm finally posting something SwampChill related. I place blame on my good friend Teenage-Oddball for getting me into the ship years back and still reignited obnoxiously sweet headcanons back and forth with me <3
> 
> As the tags suggest, changes may apply as the story goes on. I may go back and edit/add in details as the story progresses, so feel free to come back to early chapters in case that happens! Any suggestions and comments are very much appreciated, especially for this tiny ship I would go down for. This first chapter is a bit short but the next few should be better length-wise, Cheers! ~ Mothy

The Ark Project, they called it.

Questionable creativity aside, that was the name of the equally questionable experiment being carried out in the now flourishing area known as Bellwood. The project itself was no secret, as it was the talk of the town, but only a select few truly knew what was occurring behind closed doors. It was decided that, in order to create diplomacy with the planets still unsure of creating contact with Earth – a planet already bustling from interplanetary mixing – to consider engaging with Earth’s environment, representatives could be made to demonstrate Earth’s availability. 

To do so required the assistance of one Benjamin Tennyson (alternatively “Ben 10,000”)… not for his heroics, but for the infamous device attached to him that, as its creator deemed it, an ark for millions of species across the galaxy. Multiple patterns of DNA donors were extracted from the Omnitrix, duplicated repeatedly and used to create “test tube baby” copies of the wielder’s alien forms, raised to become adapted to Earth’s environment and, hopefully, be convincing enough to their alma mater planets… homes they never knew they belonged to. 

The thought constantly played over and over in one subject’s mind, and frankly it made him feel… existential. Or maybe he was just that bored. Subject OM 2.0-4752-32, affectionately dubbed “Big Chill” by Tennyson, breathed out a faint cloud of icy mist as he willed himself off the bed provided to him.

The accommodations for the Ark creations were not uninteresting. These “apartments” provided to individual subjects were small but livable, with all their environmental needs met. It reminded him of the hives created back on his home planet Kylmyys… but only through informational reading, not by personal experience. Communal living, if one could call it that. Sure, they were pampered per se, but they were still test subjects under observation, something the more indifferent species like Big Chill came to realize early on, and couldn’t quite shake off. And with all of the Ark’s restrictions piled on, it made boredom all the more dreadful. Free time spent with books or endless access to the Extranet only did so much to entertain a person.

His stomach gurgled. Despite his species’ tendency to go long periods without needing to eat, food was still a must. At least eating would give him something to do. 

Big Chill stretched his blue leathery wings out – a good twelve feet from tip to tip, at least, dotted with pale blue eyespots – before furling them back into a cloak-like form. The living space was nice, but some more time flying outside would be even better. As he left the room, he reminded himself that he would have to take the elevator this time. He wasn’t exactly in trouble for ghosting through several floors to get places, but he and others with similar abilities were warned that it often messed with security systems, scrambling communications when they passed through electrical wires (particularly when his own powers could cause things to freeze over.)

He sighed again, a sizable cloud of icy mist escaping him as he closed his dorm door behind him. His long, forked toes grazed the floor as he made the short journey to the elevator, dodging other creatures that also occupied the hallway, chittering and communicating with one another a la universal communicators. Every new alien received a small diamond-shaped chip of sorts that, while keeping tabs on the activity and health status of every occupant, in turn could translate their vocalizations to anyone within close enough range. 

Big Chill pressed the number of the desired floor onto the keypad, and rested against the nearest wall. The doors hummed quietly closed… until an intrusive force halted their efforts and forced a retreat to let in the second occupant.

Ducking into the little metal box was another alien. Big Chill had to tilt his head upwards to meet the eyes of the towering plant-being attached to the hand that halted the closing doors. Towering enough to the point they had to duck to get inside. OM-2.0-9373-04, or as Big Chill and other occupants had come to recognize him, “Swampfire.” Swampfire shuffled in awkwardly, not quite meeting Big Chill’s gaze, standing against the other wall.

“Er… ‘morning.”

“Good morning.”

The doors closed unceremoniously in front of them, and the elevator descended with a hum. 

Swampfire cleared his throat, his leaves bristling as he shuffled again in place. Big Chill took notice of this, side-eyeing the Methanosian. “Something on your mind?”   
The breathy remark caught Swampfire off-guard. “Huh? Uh, no. I mean, kind of, but…” He scratched at one of his fiery colored plumes. “If you need someone to eat with, I’m heading to the cafeteria?”

Big Chill’s brow arched, more confused than suspicious. “Are you asking me to sit with you?”

“I might be. Unless you’ve got others to be around?”

Another cloud of mist escaped Big Chill’s mouth. “I don’t.”

“Great! Neither do I.” 

The reaction surprised Big Chill. Swampfire quickly rebounded. “I mean, not that I can’t, but it’s hard to make friends around here, you know?”

Big Chill understood this quite well. Despite the best wishes of the Ark Project, only one of each species could be made at a time to make any progress towards kinship with one’s own species. That way a group of the same species wouldn't have to be forces into awkward communal living with each other. On the other hand, no two species in Ark were quite alike. Most alien groups bonded over their shared abilities or neighboring homeworlds, but didn't have much else to go on.

The elevator dinged, alerting the two beings to their destination. The doors parted, revealing a sprawling central area for dining. Hot, cooked foods were served in stations, while produce and other such food items were up for grabs along opposite walls. 

Swampfire elbowed Big Chill. “Tell you what, go grab whatever hot food you want, I’ll meet up with you. I know where they keep a lot of the good stuff here!” He said before leaving the Necrofriggian.

_What’s with this guy?_ Big Chill wasn’t sure what to make of this sudden companionship. But… it made his morning a little more interesting, so perhaps this was a turn for the better. Dodging bigger alien life forms from shoving past him, Big Chill hovered towards the food line. Earth food sounded fine for now: eggs, bacon, a pancake or two. Hopefully it’d be enough to share with Swampfire. Unless he didn’t eat meat… or did he? He winced. That probably would’ve been a good thing to ask first. 

Swampfire waved him over to a table the two could share. Big Chill sat across from him, keeping his wings tucked in close (letting them fall loose led to getting trampled on on too many occasions). “I didn’t know what you wanted.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” Swampfire said, helping himself to a bacon strip.

“You eat meat?”

“Not always. Why?”

“I mean… you’re basically a plant.”

“Yeah, and?”

“It’s not an issue to you?”

“My species used to be carnivorous, if you can believe that.” Swampfire said, torching the slice of meat to a crisp by means of the flammable opening in his palm before taking a sizable bite. Seemed to make enough sense. What would an overgrown plant need with legs anyway if it didn’t need to move (or teeth, he noticed)? Big Chill left it at that with a thoughtful bite of scrambled egg. 

Swampfire pushed a rather unsavory looking item towards Big Chill. “Try that.” He said, with a little smile. The Necrofriggian wasn’t sure what to make of this offer. The fruit(?) in question was oblong, with a fuzzy, textured outside, with a distasteful purple-grey color. “Tastes better than it looks, trust me.” The plantoid offered, taking the offering and splitting it, revealing its purple, fleshy innards. 

Big Chill tried his hardest to mask his hesitance. He carefully took a piece of the fleshy fruit, parted his vented “lips,” and tasted the foreign food. Much to his surprise, it was incredibly sweet and succulent. Despite it’s less than attractive appearance, it was one of the best things he’d ever tasted. 

“Giru fruit. Ugly on the outside, tasty on the inside.” Swampfire boasted while simultaneously studying Big Chill's method of eating. He didn't think Necrofriggians had actual "mouths" before now!

“Hmmh… it’s very good. Something from your planet?”

“Nope. Just one of many I come across from time to time. Because, y’know,” Swampfire teased “I’m a plant.” He said, badly imitating Big Chill’s voice in his nasally tone. 

Big Chill raised a fist to his mouth, shaking. One might assume from his raspy voice he was coughing, when in fact he was holding back a laugh at the impression of him. It wasn’t even that funny! Why was he laughing??

Breakfast carried on with light conversation. Puns and light-hearted jabs were exchanged. How long had these two been this close in vicinity, but had never met?   
Midway through his last chunk of Giru, Swampfire’s demeanor shifted. “So, uh… since we’re here, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Mm?” Big Chill savored the tasty morsel.

“Um…. I notice you go above ground a lot. Would you… would you mind if I joined you?”

The Necrofriggian paused, swallowing. Big Chill often made clear his intentions on being alone. Not to spite anyone, but it was pretty common for his kind to wander on their own for a time. But that wasn’t a habit he could keep up forever. Even in his relatively short existence so far, the gnawing ache of loneliness would catch up to him. 

Big Chill stood, calmly, tidying up their shared meal. “Meet me near the exit when you can. You’d better bring an I.D. mask and whatever credits you’ve got. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Swampfire stared, then grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Order now and you'll have a date chapter, FREE!! (or I just wrote these together months ago and I'm anxious to hop into the fluff). 
> 
> Again, comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated! ~ Mothy

Despite the efforts of the Ark Project to make life on Earth more appealing to outside species, it was absolutely prohibited for Ark aliens to go roaming free without going in disguise, a la I.D. masks. This didn’t bother Big Chill. Blending in meant drawing less attention to himself. Admittedly holographic disguises didn’t stop people from trampling over his oversized feet, but it was a small price to pay. 

Swampfire didn’t seem to mind being in disguise either… despite the fact how he easily towered over everyone around him. Big Chill was unusually tall, sure, but Swampfire had him beat. For the day, they were two unassuming humans, casually touring the high-tech city of Bellwood – quaint historical town turned first intergalactic metropolis – via hover rail. However, despite Big Chill’s companion being nothing but excited for the trip, the vacant space surrounding the two served as an awkward reminder he had neglected: Methanosians were infamous for their stench. Much to his dismay, he’d forgotten this fact, because apparently olfactory organs became useless for his species, so no such scent bothered him. To humans and other smelling-enabled beings, it was miserable.

Big Chill acted aloof to this fact, avoiding awkward stares by focusing on the subtle ripple in holographic data when he’d scratch the back of his hand. Gone were his ebony talons, replaced with nubby human fingers, attached to fleshy limbs on a lithe body created to match his proportions. The blue and black simulated clothing kept him within his comfort zone. Swampfire was more or less the same, relaxed with the mask of a taller human, with a sunned-brown complexion and a haphazard compilation of green clothing items. His bright plumes were easily masked with the façade of the ever-popular, hairspray-doused mohawks and slicked up hair humans enjoyed. And in bright red? Who would ever question it?

Despite Swampfire’s rather fidgety behavior (fidgety but in a gleeful way, Big Chill silently noted), the ride away from the Plumber base-turned-Ark center was awfully quiet. Big Chill nudged his friend beside him. “We’re nearing Lakeway. We should stop here.” He looped the satchel the two would share over his shoulder, hitting the alert to the driver that he and Swampfire would be leaving. A few not-so-subtle sighs of relief emanated from nearby seats when Swampfire stood up to leave with Big Chill. 

Swampfire marveled at his companion’s choice of hangouts. Even the outer streets of Bellwood spilled over with human and inhuman activity. Shops and cafes loudly demanded the attention of passerbys, run by Bellwood’s thoroughly mixed population. Big Chill waved Swampfire over towards one shop, as to not let the latter get lost in the mid-afternoon hustle and bustle. Said shop was a book café. The name was a bit of a misnomer; despite the advances in technology to read, interpret, and share reading material, humans still had a loving attachment to old fashioned books. Apparently Big Chill was no different. 

The café housed a small number of humans and a smattering of colorful aliens, perusing e-texts and paper books to their heart’s content. A tiny kitchenette and counter in the corner added to the environment with rich scents of coffee and chocolate. Swampfire ducked under the doorway to follow Big Chill, the latter already wandering off to his choice of book topics. Swampfire, on the other hand, found himself to be a bit lost. He wasn’t much of reader himself… especially when his smell often deterred people in this kind of environment, and it was pretty easy for paper books to catch fire in his hands if he wasn’t careful. Still, he trusted Big Chill’s judgement, keeping to himself and shuffling along to reunite with his new friend.  
He peered over the Necrofriggian’s shoulder (which wasn’t hard – he stood at least two feet taller). “Whatcha got there?”

“Just some history texts.” Big Chill replied, thumbing through the pages. A lot of earth history went over Big Chill’s head, but it didn’t hurt to look into the subject. “Anything you’re interested in?”

“Uhh… If I’m honest, I don’t read much.” Swampfire admitted bashfully. “I mean, I CAN read, but a lot of the books back at the Ark Center haven’t really gotten my attention, you know?”

“Hm…” Big Chill pushed the book into Swampfire’s arms and skulked to a different shelf, toying through some selection Swampfire couldn’t see from where he was standing. The Necrofriggian murmured to himself, thumbing through his selection before plucking a thin volume out of a row of colorful books. Big Chill hovered back (thankfully no one had noticed a randomly floating human), taking back his own book and placing his selection in Swampfire’s hand. “How about this?”

Swampfire turned the colorful little book over in his hands. “This is a kid’s book, isn’t it?”

Big Chill nodded. “It helps to start small. I started with this series.”

Swampfire thought it over, then smiled. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He was more than happy to let Big Chill take the lead around the book shop, marveling over the colorful choices in books, particularly the one’s that caught the latter’s eye. At the end of their browsing, they had each accumulated a small handful of titles to read once they returned safely to the Ark Center. Big Chill reached for his books in Swampfire’s arms, but they were held far out of his reach above his head.

“Nuh-uh, I’m paying for these.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m paying. These are the books you want, right?”

Big Chill was taken aback. “I mean… yes, but-“

“But nothing. I’ve got this.” The Methanosian grinned. Even with the holographic mask, that smile was genuine and pleasant. Big Chill looked on in confusion as Swampfire insisted on covering for all of their new treasure with his own credits. With texts securely bagged and hung over his shoulder, Swampfire looked down expectantly at his friend. “So! Where to next?”

“Erm…” Big Chill fidgeted as they exited the store. “I didn’t think we’d get this far, if I’m honest. You don’t have to stay with me, you know.”

“Is that your way of telling me I stink too much?”

“What? No! No, I… actually don’t know what you smell like.” Big Chill pointed to his human nose, one that covered for the organ he didn’t actually own.

“Really?” Swampfire seemed unusually delighted. “Great! At least someone doesn’t mind for once.”

The two chatted casually as they continued walking uptown. Apparently they had been “born” around the same time during the Ark Program’s initial tests, even though they hadn’t seen much of each other. Swampfire described the battery of tests he was often put through to grow accustomed to Earth’s environment, even though it usually resulted the same outcome: attempts at masking his scent in order to keep from being alienated from native species. Big Chill sympathized. His abilities made him more detached with his surroundings, often times being reminded to use doors and walkways instead of just mindlessly hovering and phasing through solid objects. 

“Bathrooms are definitely off-limits. I almost caused a Plumber lieutenant to have a heart attack when I was passing through.”

Swampfire snorted. “That’s nothing! One time, they hired some new guy to watch me during my endurance tests. Some shrapnel came flying over from the next cell, and got me right here.” He pointed to his forehead. “You should’ve seen the look on his face when my head split right down the middle!” 

They both laughed as they continued their stroll together. A few store windows caught their attention, but not enough to bring them inside, as most of their material needs would be covered by the Project. From time to time, Big Chill would let a few groan-worthy puns slip, and Swampfire would often respond with light-hearted quips (admittedly he wasn’t as good of a wordsmith).

Ahead of them as the buildings subsided, Swampfire shook Big Chill’s shoulder. “Check it out!”

The Methanosian jogged ahead to what turned into a small park that served as an idyllic green centerpiece, nature reclaiming it’s own chunk of the futuristic town. He tumbled forward, tucking into a roll and landed flat on his back in the crisp grass, sighing. Sure, his own mini-environment back at the Project was adapted for plant life, but nothing quite beat a sunny patch of grass and fresh air. A shadow passed over him. Swampfire tilted his head over to see Big Chill’s human visage crouched beside him. 

“Taking a nap, are we?” 

“Nah, it’s just nice here.” Swampfire closed his eyes and tucked his hands behind his head. “All the fancy tech in the universe just can’t beat sunshine.” Was it stereotypical? Possibly, but sun’s warmth boosted Swampfire’s spirit, invigorating every fiber making up his body underneath the holographic façade. “Sit down next to me, let’s take a-“ He opened one eye, and paused upon realizing that his companion had left him.

Swampfire sat up quickly, looking around. It took moments to finally find his companion in an unseasonable shade of blue, observing the wares of a travelling cart. He frowned. Had Big Chill lost interest already? Was it something he said?

Swampfire picked at a few blades of grass, trying to think back on what might have gone wrong. Should he go talk to him? Or play it cool and stay where he was? What if Big Chill was just being polite and wanted to leave? What if-?

A brightly colored object passed in front of Swampfire’s distracted face, causing him to jump a little bit. 

“Something wrong?” Big Chill asked, offering Swampfire one of two treats he held in each hand, sitting cross-legged beside him. 

Swampfire was dazed, but he shook off the stupor and took the oblong offering from his friend. “Uhh, no, no I’m fine.” He studied the object. “What’s this?”

“It’s called a popsicle. I didn’t know what flavor you wanted, so I got something mixed.” Big Chill cupped one hand to his mouth, subtly covering his freezing breath to solidify the frozen treat without drawing attention. 

“Huh…” Swampfire admired the swirled reds, yellows and blues of the rectangular treat before taking a cautious bite. It was soft, a bit cold for his liking… but not half bad! The hard texture of the popsicle stick caught him by surprise, though. “Why’s it on a stick?”

“So you can hold it, obviously.”

“I’m guessing we can’t eat the stick.”

“You could, but I wouldn’t advise trying it.” 

Swampfire smiled. “I can’t believe you ran off like that. You know we should probably _stick together._ ” He snickered, elbowing Big Chill. The latter snorted. Well played.

“Is this what you keep leaving the Project for?”

“Mm, not always.” Big Chill responded. “I figured this was a special occasion.”

Swampfire felt a little, goofy smile grow on his face. “Thank you. And here I was starting to think you were getting sick of me being here, so you wandered off.”

“Why would I do that?” Big Chill asked curiously.

“Er… no particular reason.”

The two relaxed while finishing their respective popsicles, spending the sunny day people-watching. No one in passing would have ever known that the duo only got to go out once a week every so often… ironic considering their entire existence depended on getting used to living on Earth. A few curious pets sniffed at them, but their unusual scents didn’t alarm any passerbys (save for a few who oh so subtly asked Swampfire if he’d ever heard of a shower before). Swampfire loved interacting with dogs. Big Chill was more hesitant towards dogs. For some reason they had a tendency to wander over to him and flop contentedly in his lap on hot days, much to the confusion of their owners, but so long as his seven-foot-tall compost companion kept one busy, he didn’t mind. 

About two hours after their park-dwelling, Big Chill removed a datapad from his satchel, using the map feature to look around the area. “There’s a few more stops I’d like to make before we leave. If we leave now, we can make it around the Lakeway area and get to downtown Oakwood…”

Swampfire leaned over to look at the map, following Big Chill’s finger as it traversed the map. “That looks like a long way around, don’t you think?”

Big Chill narrowed his eyes. “It is, but it’s either that or go through the back alleys of Lakeway. I’ve been told that’s not the best way to go. Less friendly towards our kind.”

Swampfire shrugged. “Yeah, so? No one knows we’re not human so long as we have ID masks on.” He said while tapping the side of his face, creating that tiny telltale ripple effect.

The Necrofriggian returned his gaze to the map. “I don’t know…”

Swampfire stood, stretching his gangly limbs. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got each other’s backs, right?”

As much as Big Chill wanted to stay on the safe side, he had a point. What would a quick walk hurt?

~

In hindsight the back alleys weren’t the best idea. Apart from the warnings he’d received in the past, Big Chill had forgotten that the back entryways of buildings were often the smoggiest from ventilation shafts and waste disposal. Sure, he couldn’t smell, but having a dependency on his lungs – far more intricate than that of a human’s – made braving the brick and mortar maze a hassle.

He stuck close to Swampfire, constantly on the alert around him. Survivalist instincts were hard to kick, even lightyears away from the desolate frozen world he came from. However, save for a leery employees on break and a dumpster diver, their trip was mostly devoid of life, making him feel a bit more relaxed. “How much further?”

Bare popsicle stick moving from one side of his mouth to the other, Swampfire checked the map again. “Just a few more blocks to go. We should be making a turn to the right soon.”

Big Chill sighed. Rounding the building, he griped “Look, I know you meant well, but I really think we should’ve-“

“Hands where we can see them!”

The two aliens froze in place, suddenly aware of the two human forms, both male, jumping out from behind a dumpster, faces covered with cheap masks (apparently common for the human tradition of “Halloween” around these parts). Neither came off as particularly threatening, but their sudden appearance had caught them off guard. Big Chill and Swampfire instinctively raised their arms, more out of defense than obedience to the goons.

“No one’s gonna get hurt, so long as you hand over whatever credits ya got.” One of them said, in mock reassurance, pointing a knife towards Big Chill. The animal mask (Big Chill still wasn’t as familiar with Earth animals, but he knew enough to know it was some primate-looking mask) muffled his speech, but his tone made his intentions clear.

Big Chill frowned. “We don’t even have that much-“

“Shut up! Quit with the funny business and hand over the goods already!” The partner in a reddish-orange monster mask said, raising a remote-like device with prongs on the end of it.

Swampfire snorted, lowering his hands a little. “Funny business? Have you guys looked at yourselves lately?” 

“Hand over the damn money, man!” Monster Mask squawked, the device in his hand sparking to life with spitting electricity as he thrust it forward.

The next thoughts running through Big Chill’s head rushed without much logic, more like instinctual fight-or-flight response. Any of those sparks risked setting Swampfire alight, thus blowing their cover or worse, hurting everyone present. 

Without thinking, Big Chill dove and shoved Swampfire out of the path of the taser. He briefly caught a glimpse of Swampfire’s confused/shocked glance before agonizing electrical currents shot through his side and wracked through his limbs. He screeched, inhumanly so, staggering away from Monster Mask clutching his side. His ID mask flickered, briefly revealing his true form as he struggled to gain his composure.

“What the…??” Monster Mask stammered.

“Forget the freak, grab the goods!” Ape Mask demanded. 

“Hey!” Swampfire blurted, climbing back up from being knocked on the ground. “Hands off of him!” He reached for Ape Mask, grabbing onto his arm. 

Ape Mask’s eyes widened. “H-hey, back off man!” He shrieked, instinctively swinging the knife in his other hand… slicing almost all the way through Swampfire’s wrist, lodging itself in his arm firmly and causing Swampfire’s hand to dangle awkwardly .

Monster Mask dropped his taser. “Ho…Holy shit dude! You cut his hand off! You cut the friggin’ hand off!!”

Ape Mask was about to scream at him back before noticing the whooshing blue shadows that made up Big Chill’s wings, blanketing the Necrofriggian as he swished past them, grabbing Swampfire under the elbows. 

“We'd better go…!” He said before launching off the ground, sending the two aliens into flight. The two humans screamed and ran, despite their would-be victims having NO intention on coming back to pick them off. 

Swampfire stared at the sinking buildings around him, and soon the rooftops were nothing more than grey patches below him. He looked up, seeing Big Chill wince as he tried to get away from the scene of the crime, his mask still flickering in and out.  
It was another minute or so before Big Chill finally convinced himself to land atop a twenty-story business building, letting go of Swampfire mere feet above the roof before touching down. He collapsed onto his back, panting and removing the ID mask, his true form shimmering out from under the human visage. 

Guilt-stricken, Swampfire scooted next to him. “Are you okay? That was… that was pretty crazy, you know?”

Big Chill forced a smile. “Not one of my better moments.” He touched the area where the taser prongs had hit him and winced. They had made small cuts, but that was more irritating than painful. “F-Forgot that… electricity and I don’t mix well.”

Swampfire laid back opposite from Big Chill, removing his own mask before wrenching the knife out of his wrist. Green tendrils from each side of the cut reached towards one another and pulled together, repairing the damage. “You took the blow for me… why?”

“I figured… we’d get exposed… but I guess that didn’t quite work out either, did it?” Big Chill wheezed. 

“I didn’t think you’d be able to carry me. You’re a lot stronger than you look!” Swampfire offered. 

Big Chill let out a low chuckle. “Don’t expect any more free flights.”

Swampfire smiled, but he still felt guilty. “I, um... I have something to confess.” He said, staring up at the sky.

“What?”

The Methanosian squirmed. “I… just really wanted to spend time with you. I really, really didn’t expect what happened down here. But I mean… we’re still here and, well, I was amazed that you jumped in to save me, even though I don’t think I really needed help.”

Big Chill turned his head. “You’re not making any sense.”

“What I’m trying to say is… I wasn’t entirely honest when I asked to join you. I was kind of hoping to make this a date.”

Big Chill frowned, propping himself up on his elbows. “A date?”

Swampfire winced slightly. “A date. As in…” he scratched at his leafy plumes. “I’ve had these weird feelings about you lately, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you whenever I’d see you. I didn’t even know what to talk about. But I thought maybe if you and I spent time together above ground, we’d grow closer and… I don’t even know.”

“Heh… heheh” A low giggle turned into an actual laugh. Swampfire looked over at Big Chill, confused at his reaction. “All of that, because you wanted to get to know me better? Because… you like me?”

Swampfire’s shoulders slumped. “When you put it like that…”

“No! I mean-“ Big Chill’s laughs died down, but his little smile remained. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been so invested in what I liked or what I did. And all along, you’ve been wanting this? A ‘date?’” 

“…Yeah?”

Big Chill stood up, offering a hand to Swampfire. “You have a funny way of approaching people. But… I think it’s endearing.”

Swampfire was stumped, staring at Big Chill before taking his hand. It was here he really got to feel Big Chill’s hand in his grasp… so small and slender, but fit so nicely in his.

“We should probably go back now.” Big Chill said. “If we’re going to get in trouble, we’d better not test the Ark’s patience.” He unfolded his wings but he wobbled a little, still shaken from the tasering.

Swampfire reached out and touched Big Chill’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got this. And I owe you one anyways” He kneeled, nodding behind him. “Hop on.”  
Big Chill tilted his head. “What, can you secretly fly?”

“Not at all, but I can get us down from here.” Swampfire said with a wink.  
The Necrofriggian wasn’t quite sure how to react to that response. He folded his wings around him and wrapped his arms around Swampfire’s shoulders, unintentionally nestling his cheek against his. Swampfire reached around and secured Big Chill’s legs before lifting up and striding to the building’s edge. Big Chill anticipated a drop… but instead, Swampfire’s legs stretched and extended over to the nearest building, repeating the process over Bellwood’s skyscrapers at a brisk pace, making a beeline for the Ark Project building that towered just under the Omnitrix-marked building of the Wielder. 

~ 

One medbay visit and a scolding later, the two were released to go back to their dorms. They were going to be in brief detainment for a few days, but both aliens were fine with that ruling. The further they could put the would-be mugging behind them, the better. 

On the elevator ride down to his dormitory wing, Big Chill scratched at the little bandage that covered his cuts. He was instructed to let them heal overnight to avoid infection. Small as they were, even the tiniest of paper cuts had to be documented and taken care of to avoid the unpredictable effects of bacteria on alien bodies. Then he looked up at Swampfire. “Thank you.”

“Eh?” Swampfire was looking at the books they had purchased earlier before Big Chill spoke. “For what?”

“For this date. I really don’t understand the concept, but if it was anything like today? I think… I’d like to do it some more.”

“Oh, uh, well then…” Swampfire shifted nervously. “I’d like that too.” He said with a sheepish grin. 

The elevator dinged, signaling their first stop. Swampfire handed Big Chill his books, taking another opportunity to hold Big Chill’s hand. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

Big Chill returned a small smile. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Swampfire grinned, his irises making delighted upward arches. His hand retracted as the doors closed between them.

Big Chill sighed, retreating to his dorm. It was still as dark as he’d left it. He dumped the books onto his bedside table before collapsing into pillowy goodness. What a day. All he wanted to do now was sleep.

But sleep evaded him. The Necrofriggian tossed and turned a few times. He looked over at the books in the shadows of his bedside data console. “Hrm…”

He sat up, hugging a pillow to his chest as he leaned back against his headboard. “Extranet?”

The console beside him lit up, a flickering holographic ellipsis waiting for his next command. Big Chill settled into his cozy pile, resting his chin on his pillow. “What can you tell me about ‘dating?’”

The console lit up with a wide holoscreen, flicking through it’s database as multiple text, video and audio files loaded up for his perusing. A little nighttime researching never hurt anyone, Big Chill thought as he clicked on the first document result.


	3. Interlude 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is coming slowly but surely! It's all a matter of stringing together plot points, dontcha know?
> 
> This was going to be a part of that, but since it takes place in the story's past, these interlude bits will be their own short chapters. If the holiday hours at work don't kill me first, chapter 3 should be out soon (as well as edits that may be necessary)! 
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy!

_… It’s cold. It’s cold in here. Have I only noticed this now?_

The alien squirms in place, curling up to retain warmth. Then the white lights came on. The only response that came to mind was to shy away from them.

_Too bright! Am I in danger?_

“Response to visual stimulation is affirmative.”

_A voice? But from where? This… place is so empty… am I alone?_

The room around the alien is bare. The walls were smooth… no corners to hide in, only a great white dome walling them in. They move off the padded platform they were laying on to plod around, touching the walls, looking for the source of the sound. Were it not for the cloudy white color, the alien could almost make out their reflection in the smooth surface, dumbfounded to - apparently - see themself for the first time.

“Seems to be responsive to sound. Wonderful.”

 _There it is again!_ The alien looks around dumbly. Why could they understand what they were hearing, and yet be so confused by the situation before them?

“Movement seems to be normal, no complications… we know you can hear us in there, do you think you can demonstrate your abilities for us?”

Abilities?

The alien is suddenly conscious of their entire being, how they’re built anatomically. They look down at their hands, where wide holes took up most of either palm. With a little focus, they seemed to make gas seep from their pores. 

But there’s something more! A little more concentration and…. Fire! Yes, fire! Hungry orange flames belched out from their fists. It was more than a little startling to the alien, now flailing their arms to douse out the fire. 

“Excellent! Now, if you’d be so kind as to…. Huh? Er, yes, go right ahead.”

The alien tilts their head, confused at the sudden interruption. In moments, the voice had changed to something new.

“Heyyy, buddy! It’s been a while since I’ve seen that face!”

_My face? Where have I been? Had I gone somewhere? I don’t remember… anything._

“You probably didn’t realize you had a name though, huh? How does Swampfire sound to you?”


	4. Bookworms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! The next chapter is here! A little shaky but I'm on a creative run to keep writing the next chapters! Two things before starting:
> 
> 1) I know I promised the next chapter at Christmas, but unsurprisingly working in retail got in the way. As for January-today? I have no excuse. I apologize :C
> 
> 2) I found out late that apparently there is literally an A.R.K. project in the Ben 10 reboot. Since I haven't been watching it, this was a big surprise for me. However, my version is not related, as the canon A.R.K. has to do with Earth species, not the Omnitrix database. Clearly I have catching up to do!
> 
> All that said, bear with me on this little update and I will hopefully have new chapters soon! (and may or may not have separate mini stories in the works!)
> 
> ~ Mothy

“Eight hundred… nine hundred… excellent! One thousand kilograms!”

Pneumatic pistons hissed and retracted upwards towards the ceiling, relieving Swampfire of the aforementioned weight used to press down against his opposing strength. On top of preparing for life on Earth, apparently the higher ups determined that it wouldn’t hurt to get a full measure of every species’ abilities to demonstrate to the planet’s preexisting habitants. 

Swampfire rolled his shoulders a few times, making sure his tendons weren’t overworked while a short, dark-haired scientist added his new stats to his profile. The gym around them bustled with bodies and noise. This training area was divided up by partitions as to not disturb or distract other test subjects. This would allow the utilization of the entire training area by rotating different individuals through various trials, minimizing distraction and accidents. 

“You’re doing wonderfully, Swampfire!” The human scientist applauded, finalizing the results on the holoscreen she had displayed before her. “We still have a few minutes before we must rotate. How about you take a short break?”

“Thanks, Dr. Nayar.” 

Dr. Parvati Nayar had been Swampfire’s assigned “mentor” per se during his time at the ARK. She was an astute botanist before her active duty as a Plumber. Now in her late 50’s, she was happy to take part in raising and managing the universe’s assortment of plant-based sentient beings. Despite her squat form and greying hair, she was still spritely and sharp-witted, and on occasion still boasted of her recon days.

Still, that didn’t mean she didn’t let up on the rigorous exercises required of him. He made use of his break taking a few swigs of water from the bottle given to him. 

“I thought I’d heard your voice over here.”

Swampfire nearly spat out the mouthful of water he had. He whipped around to see Big Chill phasing through the leftmost partition. Had he not heard him first, the image of the Necrofriggian seemingly stuck partway through a wall would’ve startled him more.

“Chill!” Swampfire set down his bottle and rushed to him, hand out to grasp Big Chill’s in their informal show of affection. “How are you?”

“Probably no better off than you.” 

“Pfft, what, strength testing? How did you think I became this good-looking?” Swampfire teased, flexing his fibrous muscles.

“And so humble.” Big Chill smirked. 

“Uh, we’re still on for meeting up this evening, right?” Swampfire asked, hoping the Necrofriggian hadn’t forgotten.

“Of course. And you said you finished your books already?”

Swampfire grinned sheepishly. “Hey, those books are good, but they’re not very long, okay? You’re the one who recommended them to me, remember?” he added with a jab to Big Chill’s chest.

“Big Chill? Please get back to this side of the wall, _please._ ” Someone beyond the barricade insisted in a rather annoyed tone. 

Big Chill shrugged. “I’ll see you then. Try not to wear yourself out.” He said, phasing back behind the barricade.

Swampfire could only grin goofily, returning to Dr. Nayar. He hadn’t expected her to be eyeing him so knowingly, her chin propped up on one fist from the control panel she sat behind. She grinned coyly. “So, is that him?”

“Him who?”

“Oh, don’t give me that! You _finally_ got around to asking him out, that’s a very big leap for you!” She said.

“It didn’t take me that long…” Swampfire protested. 

“I know I’ve teased you about it, but really! You should be proud of yourself!” Nayar leaned in. “Is he cute?”

_“Doctor.”_

“Whaaat? It’s for research!” Dr. Nayar teased. Things being “for research” was often her go-to excuse. According to her, it still counted if his answers were written down. Come to think of it, that was the go-to excuse for a lot of the superiors at ARK, ranging from photographing mishaps to attempted interactions with other species.

He tried blowing her off, but she wouldn’t stop staring him down (or up, rather) with her arms crossed and a smug grin on her face. He sighed. “Very cute.”  
Her grin grew wider. “Look at you, being so smitten!”

“I am not.”

Nayar gasped. “Look, he’s back!”

Swampfire whipped back around, only to be disappointed by the still empty wall and Dr. Nayar’s traitorous snickering. 

“Smitten.” She insisted, pointing at him accusingly with a stylus.

Embarrassed by the trickery, Swampfire shuffled in place. “Maybe only a little.”

“And what’s this about a meeting?” Nayar pressed on.

“This is starting to feel less like research and more like an interrogation, Doctor.”

“Nothing that involves a street fight, I hope?”

 _“Doctorrrr.”_  
~

When your living space isn’t much more than a small apartment by human standards with lighting fit for a plant humanoid, there isn’t much to tidy, much less a way to make it more inviting to someone with a different environment to live in. 

Nonetheless, the minutes ticking by without Big Chill having arrived yet made Swampfire anxious. Was the space clean enough? Did the sun-lamp lighting make it too bright or too warm? Did Necrofriggians even feel heat? Would it appear as though he was trying too hard, or not hard enough??

In all of his fretting, he almost missed the cold presence lurking around him. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“AH!” Swampfire jumped back. “Chill! You scared me!”

The blue alien, supplied with his own books, looked behind him. “Oh yeah… forgot about the door thing.” Big Chill said. He shrugged, turned, and phased right back out of the room. 

Swampfire stared, dumbfounded. “Um… Chill?”

He was answered with a knock. “Can I come in now?”

Swampfire blinked, then laughed. One touch on the control panel by the door, and Big Chill was granted proper entry. “I guess I should just start expecting you at any moment. Not that I mind.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Big Chill retorted, hovering into the room with his books. If nothing else, something about the way the Necrofriggian’s cloaked appearance floated around a room mesmerized Swampfire. 

Big Chill eyed the oddly neat piles of books set beside his resting place on the edge of Swampfire’s bed. “You weren’t kidding… short books or not, you turned out to be a voracious reader.”

“Thank you?” Swampfire wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but took it as a compliment, happy to lean back against the foot of the bed. 

“So how about that plot twist then? With the sorceress being with the kids the whole time?” 

“Right??” Swampfire exclaimed. “I mean, the clues were all there in hindsight, but I did not see it coming!”

Big Chill smirked, then took a book out of his own stack and dangled it in front of Swampfire’s face. Battered as it was, the colorful cover was still eye-catching. “You should try this series next, if you want. A little higher up in difficulty, but I think you can manage it.”

Swampfire happily took it, handling it like one would an infant, inspecting the cover front and back. “Huh… monsters this time?” He remarked, leaning back. “Magic, monsters… humans write about weird things.”

“You should see what they used to write about aliens.” Another book was offered for him to inspect – a well worn paperback featuring a pair of humans with exaggerated frightened expressions fleeing from a colorfully garbed and helmeted alien. A pitifully small spacecraft hovered ominously in the background, highlighting the terror of the unknown. 

Swampfire cocked his head. “What about them?”

“I dunno, just how they’re depicted I suppose? I’ve never met another non-human like that.” Big Chill kicked back, laying at the edge while still comfortably close to Swampfire. “Though this was probably long before Earth turned out the way it is.”

The latter squirmed a little. “*ahem* Uh… Can I do anything for you? Is the lamp too hot for you?”

“Nope. It’s actually pretty nice.” Big Chill commented. Swampfire briefly looked up to see the blue alien smiling at him. Not the same mischievous, smart aleck expression he’d grown accustomed to after a bad pun, but a sincere smile. Caught off-guard, Swampfire over-corrected himself and stuck his non-existent nose back in his book. Literally.

“That’s… a new way to go about reading.”

“Mrm-hrm.” Swampfire mumbled, not removing his face from the pages.   
Big Chill snickered, reaching out and petting Swampfire’s colorful fronds. “You don’t have to sit separately from me, by the way. There’s enough room for the both of us. Enough simulated sunlight for two?”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m weird about it…”

“Any weirder than shoving your face in a book?”

“… point taken.”

Big Chill inched aside as Swampfire rose back up to his full height, face uncovered, before settling beside his new companion. The Necrofriggian happily propped himself up against Swampfire’s arm. “Is this okay?”

“It’s fine. Great, actually.” Swampfire admitted. Timidly he raised his arm and let it wrap around Big Chill’s shoulders. “Are you okay with this?” 

“Better than okay.” Big Chill nodded. “So… think you can dazzle me with your reading skills now?”

Swampfire beamed. “I can try!”

Somehow it just felt right, sitting together in that moment. Big Chill’s cool aura was a refreshing change of pace. More so while Swampfire managed his way through his book. He stumbled from time to time on certain words, but Big Chill was quick to help him pronounce new words. Eventually the Methanosian realized Big Chill’s head had managed to find its way onto his shoulder, leaving a cool patch where they touched. 

And he loved it.

He continued, managing a few chapters before he began to notice something else. A low, vibrating rumble that he’d only now noticed emanating from Big Chill.

Swampfire lowered the book. “Wait a minute… are you… do you _purr_??”

“What?” The rumble faltered.

“You are! You’re purring!” The book fell as Swampfire’s hands launched to either side of Big Chill’s face, cupping his bony cheeks in between porous palms.

“Hey!”

“That was cute…. Do it again!” Swampfire all but squealed, smushing his friend’s cheeks.

“Leggo uff mah faysh, Shwampfire.” 

He loosened his grip, but didn’t dare left Big Chill go, instead grinning widely before leaning into to touch foreheads with him with a nasal laugh. Words couldn’t describe the delight he felt, knowing that the person he’d felt too timid to approach was not only with him, but was happy to be near him. Was he overreacting? Probably, but he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Big Chill, still baffled at this show of affection, huffed out a small wisp of cool mist. And yet… he didn’t back away from it, giving in with a smile. “You’re a dork.”

“I’ll be as dorky as you want me to be, Chill.”


End file.
